Hold Me Together As I Fly Apart
by forensicpathologistninja
Summary: Your father leaves you and it is unlike any pain you've ever known... now with the second chapter  hopefully there will be three or four total, but there will be no cliffhangers
1. World is on Fire

**Hold Me Together As I Fly Apart**

Tagged for 2x22: Keith was on the plane with Woody, and Veronica is in shock for about two days. Once that wears off, she's in an almost constant state of panic, and the only thing that can calm her is Logan… and his considerable talents.

** 90909**

The night your father dies (is blown up), you cry yourself to sleep. Your dreams are filled with fire and falling, and boys with bitter smiles jumping from roofs.

Your father _left _you and it is unlike anything you've ever felt before. Lilly left without warning; was torn away from you, brutally, and then pain was like being run over by a train. Your whole body literally ached. Then your mother left you (though she'd already been gone for a while), and there was anger and grief, but no surprise, and somehow, this was worse than the death (murder) of your best friend. You are really the one who leaves Logan, but you feel like he's the one who abandoned you, because really, you weren't breaking up with him, you were giving him a choice (and not even a hard one, because you're not asking him to choose between you and his friends, just you and his unhealthy, illegal obsession with pissing people off). But he'd choose just about anything over you, apparently (you should have known), and so you're the one who's hurt. Duncan leaving is something you'd been expecting from day 1(version 2). He leaves and then you really are alone again, because Logan hates you, Wallace isn't talking to you, your dad doesn't trust you at all anymore, and you never thought to get close enough to Mac to be incredibly friendly before, and now you can't because you don't want her to leave you too.

Miraculously, you get Wallace and your dad back, and you and Mac grow closer. You don't feel alone anymore, and the morning of graduation starts so well.

But the sight of the ball of fire in the sky behind you rips your heart from your chest, so it stands to reason that when _Cassidy_ (not Beaver) jumps from the roof, you feel nothing. You'd hoped you'd maybe feel at least satisfaction, but you're numb.

This isn't what was supposed to happen. When you finally got Logan back, you were supposed to be able to care. But you can't. You don't feel anything, save for the terror that comes with your dreams (nightmares) and an indefinable pain.

Then, a moment of desperation shows you a way to feel again. Being with Logan (and by with, you mean _with_) is the only thing that lets you feel anything. This is something you choose easily over sleeping (because that's more like watching a horror movie than resting anyway). On some level, you know you're really just using him, but you can't bring yourself to care, because when you're not clinging to him fucking like there's no tomorrow, you can't do anything but hurt. He doesn't seem to mind.

When you first made love to him (long before your father died, back when life didn't suck _nearly_ this much) it was sweet. After that, when you made love to each other, it was sometimes sweet, sometimes a little sour, sometimes angry, sometimes hard and fast. Now you don't make love. You fuck him or beg him to fuck you, and it's always desperate and frantic. You can only breathe when he's pushing into you and dragging you into bliss.

"Veronica," he whispers into your hair one night, right after a fuck. He's still inside you, and even that's not close enough. "Ronica, I want you to talk to somebody about this."

He's silent then, letting you digest his words. You know what he means by _this_. You even agree on some level. You know what you're doing isn't healthy. Barely eating, not sleeping, throwing yourself into work and dangerous situations. But you just don't care. And even if you did, you don't know another way.

You don't say anything to him and he sighs. "This isn't healthy, Veronica. You're killing yourself, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you do it. God, you haven't slept in weeks! And you barely eat, Veronica, you can't keep this up. I've made an appointment with a doctor for tomorrow morning. I want you to talk to her, and let her help you. If she says you need to be put in the hospital, and at the rate you've been going, I'm afraid she might, I want you to listen to her. I _need_ you to cooperate with the psychiatrist, _let her help you_."

You still don't speak, but when he mentions staying in a hospital, you tense up. There's just no possible way you'd survive not being able to see him whenever you want. You _need_ him, like you've _never_ needed anyone or anything before in your life (except maybe your father, though _that_ didn't end very well). You can't stop thinking about it, and your breathing becomes shallow.

"Hey," he says gently, tilting your head up to capture your lips in his own. You kiss back desperately, opening your mouth to his, stroking his tongue with your own. He responds, and you fuck like there's no tomorrow. And maybe there isn't, not for you at least. You don't want to be separated from Logan, but if you must be, it will happen on your own terms.

**90909**

When he's been asleep for a good two hours, your gently extract yourself from his grasp, careful not to wake him. You silently pack a duffel bag with clothes and toiletries, and your wallet. As you lock the door behind you, you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, cold despite the warm California air.

If you could still feel anything but the pain, you'd probably feel remorse, guilt, anger. But Cassidy ripped your heart out and left you to bleed on the roof of the Neptune Grande, not even leaving enough of your heart (or your father) to bury. He was simply gone, literally dust in the wind, and you think maybe you left with him. It just took your body a while to catch up. So you drive east until you meet the rising sun, after you withdraw as much cash as you can. You find a chop shop somewhere in Arizona and trade your car in, paying the man to deny everything.

When you remember to eat, you stop at a little diner and the waitress serves you pancakes with bacon, and calls you honey (just like Dad used to) when the bacon makes you cry a little.

A couple cities later, you think to dye your hair and get a trim. You always wear sunglasses to hide your face. You keep your phone off, and you ditched the tracker your father had put in it back in Neptune. Not that there's anyone left to use it.

**90909**

When you have been gone for 32 hours (and still haven't slept at all; it's a miracle you haven't caused an accident yet), you turn your phone on (after making sure it is night in Neptune, in hopes that anyone tracking you would be asleep). You are sitting in the crappy car you now own in the parking lot of a gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere, and the only other person for miles is the sleepy station owner, who blinks at you and then decides you're not a threat and returns to his newspaper.

You have 67 missed calls, 31 texts, and 12 voicemails. Of those, 41, 18, and 7 (respectively) are from Logan. You take a moment to listen to the messages, if only to hear his voice again.

"Veronica, it's Logan. Baby, please call me when you get this and let me know where you are. Remember to be home by 11, so we can go to your appointment. Love you." His voice is a little desperate despite not mentioning his worry. You listen to the next one.

"Veronica, please don't do this. I want you to be okay. Please just come home and we can talk about this."

"Veronica Mars! If you're not home by dinner, I'm sending out the hounds. The cops may not take missing persons reports for 36 hours, but your friends do. If you make me come find you, I will not be happy."

The next one is from Wallace. "Hey Superfly. Listen girl, Logan's going a little crazy not knowing you're okay. Can you at least call the boy so he'll calm down? Or at least call someone. I understand you need your space, but at least let us know you're not broken down in a ditch somewhere."

The next two are from Logan again, one begging you call, text, send up a flare, anything to let him know you're okay. Then other is after dinner, and he's calling to tell you that Mac and Wallace and Alicia and even Weevil and Lamb are all looking for you.

Which leaves you unsurprised when the next message is from Weevil. "Yo, V! Listen, if Richie Rich did something to hurt you or piss you off, you can just tell me, and I'll take care of him. No need to run away, just run to Weevil. Call me when you get a chance."

Alicia calls you next, telling you that you need to come home. If you need to stay with her for awhile, she'd be glad to have you. Or if you want to road trip, let them know where you are, and she'll go with you. But she doesn't want you alone right now. Logan leaves another frantic message after hers, cursing you for removing the tracker from your car, and begging you not to do anything stupid. Mac also calls you, telling you that no matter how well you hide, or how long it takes her, she'll find you. She also curses you for leaving, letting you know that none of them need this right now, and that includes you. You're not so sure.

Logan's last message is a desperate cry for you to return. "Ronnie, I love you so much. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about seeing a therapist before I made the appointment. I promise that if you'll just come back we can talk about it. Maybe we could just start off small, you know, talk to a counselor and see what they suggest. I won't make you go to the hospital, baby, just please please please come home. I need you."

The last message surprises the hell out of you. "Veronica Mars," you hear Sheriff Lamb's voice drawl. "Please come back and get your boy-toy out of my office." There is a pause, and you think he's going to hang up then, but he doesn't. "Come home, Mars. I know you miss him. I know it has to hurt like nothing else. But this isn't the way to handle it."

You sit and stare at your phone for a few minutes. Suddenly you want to call someone. You need to hear a familiar voice, and the desire rushes up in your throat and almost chokes you, it is so strong. But you know you can't give up that easily. It's just not in your nature. You decide to stop in the next town to think about what you should do.

A part of you wants them to find you, but you decide that if they haven't found you in 48 hours, you're moving on.

**90909**

For two days, you barely leave the grungy motel. You only eat a couple times, and you mostly waste the hours away taking showers (still trying to scrub _beaver_ off of you, two and a half years later) or staring at the ceiling, somewhere between nightmares and reality. Which is really just another kind of nightmare. You're not sure what the difference is anymore.

Finally, at hour 50, you realize that you have, in fact, been sleeping, because you missed your alarm (and at this thought, the nightmare you'd been having comes back to you, wrapping itself around you like a suffocating blanket). You sigh and force your tired body to walk to the manager's office to check yourself out. When you go back to your room to get your bags, you let yourself fall back onto the bed, too tired to move despite the fact that you now suspect you might have just slept for the better part of two days (later, when your mind is clear, you will find out that you didn't). Now you just sit and stare at the wall while tears stream down your cheeks.

**90909**

And this is how they find you, nearly an hour later. It turns out the motel owner might have been just another pretty face, but her brother wasn't, because he recognized you despite your changed appearance, and tattled on you. Logan and Wallace and Mac and anyone else who may still care have known where you are since around lunchtime day before yesterday (which is funny, considering _you're_ not sure where you are).

So, after you have been living (for lack of a better term) in a motel in the middle of fucking nowhere for 51 hours, they find you alone, sitting on the edge of the bed, knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs, tears falling from your eyes.

You don't hear them outside the door, nor do you hear the door open. But then there is light in the room, and _Lamb_, of all people, is kneeling in front of you. It takes you a moment to realize that his lips are moving, because you don't think you can hear what he's saying. Your mind definitely can't process it.

Then Logan's arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as he sits on the bed beside you, and the world rights itself, and you can hear again.

"When's the last time you ate, Mars?" Lamb asks you, his voice full of something so close to concern that you almost have to laugh. Almost.

But you don't know the answer to his question, and talking takes far too much effort anyway, so you just lean into Logan and hug him to you, wondering why you thought it was a good idea to leave him. Somewhere behind you, you hear the voice of the manager's brother say something about not seeing you leave your room since a couple hours after he'd called in your whereabouts.

Lamb looks at his watch. "31 hours, Mars. That's got to be a record for you."

His voice lacks its usual bite, and when you don't respond, he motions for Logan to pick you up and carry you to the car. It is Logan's huge yellow monstrosity, but now that you're back in his arms, he hands the keys to Lamb and climbs into the back, still cuddling you into him, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead periodically.

They stop at a diner for lunch, and Logan and Lamb take turns convincing you to take just _one_ more _tiny_ bite. By the time you finally just shake your head and lay down in Logan's lap, you have eaten less than half of your burger, and none of your fries, but you still feel so full you want to vomit, and you realize that this is probably the most you've eaten in weeks. Or maybe months. You're not sure what day it is, or how long it's been since Cassidy blew up your father.

They bundle you back to the car, and you make it 3 miles down the road before you speak for the first time since they got you back.

"I'm going to be sick," you whimper, and Lamb pulls over just in time for you to throw the door open and vomit until there's nothing left. And then you dry heave for several minutes while Logan holds back your hair and rubs soothing circles over your back. When you collapse, exhausted, against him, Lamb appears in front of you, pressing a bottle of water to your lips. You sip from the bottle, and when your stomach no longer feels like it's trying to jump out of your throat, the three of you continue on your way.

**90909**

You stop, several hours later, at another motel – slightly higher class than the one you'd stayed in – and Lamb helps you out of the Xterra and lets Logan carry you to bed. He, of course, has a separate room for himself, but for some reason, he lingers in yours, helping Logan take care of you.

When he leaves, Logan undresses you, and you cringe, not really wanting _that_ right now, but willing to let him take it anyway. He sees and merely shoots you a sympathetic look before carrying you to the bathtub. He looks you over, and you know he's thinking you've gotten way too thin, but he has the grace not to say it. Instead he lightly traces your ribs with his thumb and kisses your forehead.

You'd forgotten what _relief_ felt like, but you think that lying in bed with Logan spooned behind you again might be pretty darn close.

You still don't really sleep.

**90909**

You arrive back in Neptune, and it feels so _un_like coming home that you want to cry. If only you had tears left. You feel like you're entering the lion's den, and when you see the Neptune city limits sign, you suddenly can't breathe.

But Logan holds you, and then the car stops, and he isn't the only one holding you. FindVeronica Co. has been using the Mars residence as its home base, and Wallace, Alicia, Mac, Weevil and his abuela, Leo, and Sachs are all there. It is dark out by the time you and your escorts arrive, and a glance at the clock tells you its past midnight. You are suddenly more exhausted than you ever remember being before in your life. Alicia sees your eyelids start to droop, and decides that it's time for bed, sending Leo and Sachs home. Lamb stays, and you still haven't figured out why he seems to suddenly care about you.

Logan helps you get ready, and instinctively, he knows what you need.

He carries you to your father's bed, and settles you under the covers, then holds you while you stare at the wall.

"Veronica, don't you ever do something like that again. Tomorrow I'm taking you to the doctor to get you something to help you sleep. And you _will_ see a counselor. We can get through this. I'll be with you every step of the way."

"So will we," a voice says from the doorway, and you look up to see Alicia and her son standing there. Your eyes fill with tears and you sniffle, and at the sound, the pair crosses the room to comfort you. Suddenly you're sobbing, while Wallace and Logan hold you between them, and Alicia sits behind her son, reaching over to caress your hair. Your sobs bring Mac down to the room as well, and soon the room is filled with all the people who care about you, and everyone is a little teary-eyed, and everyone is helping hold you together even as you break apart.

Mac and Wallace fall asleep curled awkwardly around you and each other, then Alicia dozes off in the chair she's moved from the living room. Lamb has taken the chair that always sits at your father's desk, and Weevil has moved the extra mattress to the floor beside your father's bed for him and his grandmother.

Soon it is only you and Logan awake, and you are overwhelmed by a sudden wave of guilt and love and terror and something that just might be hope.

Fresh tears come to your eyes, and you sob into Logan's shoulder, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm so so sorry." You can't stand that you didn't think they could be there for you; can't stand that you thought you had to run away.

But Logan kisses you softly, effectively shutting you up.

"Its okay, Veronica. Now sleep."

And finally, for the first time in two weeks (because Alicia told you it'd been that long), in a room surrounded by everyone who loves you, in a bed that smells like the only person missing from this equation, you do.


	2. It's More Than I Can Handle

**Hold Me Together As I Fly Apart**

You wake up the next morning confused. Why are there so many people in one room? But then you remember the previous night, and realize that you are still confused. There aren't enough people in this room. You ease yourself out of Logan's grasp, pausing when he stirs, but he settles back into sleep easily enough.

You somehow manage to get out of the bed without waking Mac or Wallace, and go out to the kitchen, where you find Lamb and Alicia and Mrs. Navarro scrounging around for food.

"There's hardly anything here… we'll have to make a grocery run if we want brea- oh, hi Veronica! Sweetie, how are you feeling?" Alicia breaks off in the middle of her sentence when she sees you standing awkwardly in the hall.

Everyone stops and looks at you, as if they are expecting something, and suddenly there is a weight on your chest, and you can't breathe. Before anyone can make a comment, you mutter something about walking Back-Up, and flee the house, gasping for air.

**90909**

It takes you approximately 13 minutes to realize that leaving your phone and not bothering to put shoes on was probably not the best idea. Your phone you can live without, sure, but by the time you take notice, your feet are already bloodied and raw from the harsh pavement. Back-Up whines at you, and tries to pull back towards the apartment. For a moment, you consider, but the pain in your chest builds up again, and you continue towards the beach. The sand digs into your feet and the pain also argues for you to return to your home, but again, you refuse.

_'Stubborn as always, Veronica,'_ a voice chides, and you don't have to look to know you'd see your father, just as you saw Lilly after her murder. You almost turn, just to take in the sight of him one more time, but then you remember that every time you saw Lilly, she had a bloody gash in her head. You don't think you could handle finding out what your imagination makes your father look like after he's been blown up. You let the tears slip down your cheeks, longing to feel his arms wrap around you, desperate for him to hold you again, though you know he can't.

Instead, you bury your face in Back-Up's fur, and sob "Daddy!" over and over again, until, somehow, you drift into black.

**90909**

"Veronica!" a voice cuts through to your conscious, and you groan. Who the hell would wake you up this early?

You crack an eye open. Logan. Figures it would be him.

"Let's get her home, Echolls," another familiar voice sighs, and you think it might be Lamb, and you're not sure, but that thought reminds you of why you're out here, alone, on the beach, and why they'd be looking for you.

And why you're in so much pain.

No, wait. That question still hasn't been answered.

You look down at your aching body and realize that while leaving the phone and shoes in the house may have been bad ideas, forgetting the sunscreen was the worst idea you've ever had. By a long shot.

You look to Logan, and he answers your unspoken question.

"Two hours, Ronnie. We wanted to give you your space, figured you wouldn't really try to run with nothing but Back-Up and your pajamas, but then we got worried. Looks like we should have gotten worried earlier. You're really burnt, baby."

You merely nod, unsure of what else you could do in response. Yes. You _are_ very burnt. To a crisp, you're certain, and you know that pure agony awaits you in the next few days.

Part of you thinks you deserve it. Agony. It's becoming your friend these days.

**90909**

A few hours later, you find out that you were wrong about the agony thing. Logan takes you to the ER, and Lamb uses his badge to get you in and out in a timely manner, and soon you're drugged up to your eyeballs and there is a plethora of lotions on the bedside table to tame any of the residual pain from your feet and your sunburn.

You can't feel either, but Logan informs you that you were screaming when the doctor debrieded your shredded feet, and you don't have the energy not to believe him. So you just nod and swallow the broth, or the cereal, or the pills he places on your tongue, and he rubs soothing lotions on your face and arms and legs when you wake up whimpering.

It's almost poetic, this way you've found to coexist. Or it would be if it didn't involve your father being dead and you being in a constant state of confused panic.

The drugs are good. You wake up screaming and within minutes, Logan is at your side with more little white pills to numb the pain and drag you back into oblivion.

It is the only place you exist peacefully anymore.

**90909**

_You are running. Running from what, exactly, you're not sure. But you know it's nothing pleasant, and then you're on your back, in a burning fridge, screaming for a father you know won't ever come. Not this time. _

_"You're all out of lives, kitten. So sorry." A slimy voice whispers in your ear and you know he speaks the truth._

_You scream anyway. Your father is dead, people whisper around you in ways you've never had to deal with before, and now you're on fire. You think that screaming is really the only thing you have left. So you do it again, as another voice whispers your name back to you, reminding you of who you are and how much you've lost._

_Of what you'll never get back._

_Your best friend. Scream._

_Your mother. Scream._

_All your other friends. Scream._

_Your virginity. Scream._

_Your first love. Scream._

_Your father. Scream._

_"Veronica!" yes, yes. You've lost her too. No idea what happened to that girl, that Veronica Mars. You think perhaps she's drowning with you, in this ocean of fire, or maybe she died long ago and left only an empty shell._

_"Veronica, wake up!"_

You don't want to wake up, but Logan is holding you and caressing your burning face gently, his hands full of the soothing lotion that the doctor gave you.

Gave him. For you. Because you can't really be trusted to look after yourself anymore. Because you don't _want_ to look after yourself anymore.

Your head throbs and you whimper, hoping Logan will do something to make it go away. Preferably something involving a Lamb's gun and your aching head.

But he just sighs and pushes two little white pills past your lips, then tilts your water bottle until you swallow them down.

The pills drag you under again as Logan leaves you in your father's room.

**90909**

It is dark again when you wake up, and this time, despite the pain, you know exactly what it is that you want to do. You look at your clock, noting that it's 3am, and everyone left in your house is probably asleep.

You take some pain medicine after standing and realizing that walking right now won't be as easy as you'd thought. You are as quiet as a little mouse, so you don't wake your overly attentive boyfriend. You rub some lotion on your sore feet, and quickly stick them in your fluffy terrycloth slippers. This is something you need to do, _now_.

You sneak past your sleeping dog on the floor and into your father's closet, picking out his trenchcoat and then putting your lotion, pain pills, and keys in the pocket. As an afterthought, you pick your dad's old gun off of the top shelf, vaguely registering that you were never this jumpy before.

A night facing down your father's murderer will make a girl jumpy, though, you reason. A taser no longer seems like enough to ward off the sinister dark of Neptune.

You walk silently into the living room, secretly proud of yourself for not making any noise, even with your aching feet. You know Logan is still asleep in your father's bed, beside the warm impression you'd left, and Alicia is asleep in your room. Wallace has taken the couch, and you are thankful for this as his snores cover the sound of the door as you close it behind you.

Everyone else finally went home, somewhere between your day of not-so-fun-in-the-sun and whatever day this is.

You breathe more evenly as you make your way down the stairs and out to the beach. The pain is still there, but it seems more manageable now.

**90909**

You nearly trip over the coat more times than you can count, and it's really too hot outside for you to be wearing a coat anyway, but you still refuse to take it off.

The third time you trip, you fall onto your knees, scraping and stretching your already raw skin.

Without reading the label, you pop two more pills into your mouth and swallow them dry. The pain recedes and you don't know if it's because of the medicine or the passage of time, but you don't really believe time heals anything anymore, so you choose the former.

You sit on the sand by the ocean and let the night air wash over you. Your father is dead.

Your father.

Is dead.

Your.

Father.

Is.

Dead.

Cassidy Casablancas murdered him. Along with eight other people (your father is dead).

Eventually, your hand starts to move as if in a dream. One pill for everyone Cassidy killed. Will it be enough?

You've swallowed your way through all of the bus crash victims and your father when you remember Woody and Curly Moran.

Two pills at once. There is a storm coming quickly towards the land. Coming to boil the very spot on which you sit.

You get back to the task at hand.

Then there's Duncan and baby Lilly. Cassidy hadn't killed them, but he took them away from you (or maybe he just took someone important away from both of them), and you swallow twice more, refusing to think about the logic – or lack thereof – in this thought.

There is a bottle in the sand beside you, and you vaguely remember the party you happened on several hours ago and several blocks back. Maybe that's where it came from. You're not sure, and you don't really care anymore. Something tells you it won't matter soon anyway.

Not to you, at least.

There is something wrong, though. There are still some pills left, sitting in the bottom of the orange bottle, and you are angry for a second. Whoever put them in there obviously wasn't very smart, because you've already taken one for each person Cassidy took from you, so there shouldn't be any left.

Perhaps you should just take one for all of your losses.

Lilly.

Your mother.

Your virginity.

Your sanity.

Now instead of screams you're counting little white drops of heaven, stale and bitter on your tongue.

You'd never thought heaven would taste this bad, but then again, you didn't think hell had air conditioning either, and Lamb proved you wrong then. There's still a pill left, so you pop it past your lips and hold the champagne up to the sky, toasting the storm on the horizon. You don't know how long you've been out here, but you know it's been hours, because by the time you swallow that last pill, the sky is grey with predawn light and the clouds of the looming storm.

You stand and turn your face to the sky as the wind and rain whip at your hair, and the thunder drowns out your scream. Or maybe it's a laugh, you can't tell, and you don't think you'd be able to even if you'd heard it. You're not sure you can tell the difference anymore (if there ever was one).

You try again, just in case, but this time all you hear above the roaring wind and thunder are the frantic sounds of Logan calling your name.

Again.

Why does he always find you? Why does he always know where to look?

You look around dully and realize that the reason may have something to do with the fact that you always seem to choose this particular place.

But you don't want him to find you this time, so you pretend he hasn't seen you yet and you stumble away from him, going the only way that holds some cover. The trenchcoat gets in your way and you shrug it off at the water's edge. It seems wrong to carry with you someone who loved you into your death anyway. Besides, you hope to see him soon enough.

The water closes over your head and you smile, opening your eyes. The murky depths leer back at you, skeleton hands clutching at your pajamas as the salty water stings your skin like little needles. The undertow drags you out suddenly and without warning, somersaulting you violently through the depths. Your head connects with something that might be the barnacle-covered pier or an underwater shipwreck, you're too far gone to tell. You do know one thing, though. You've never felt something so physically painful. You try to scream and water fills your mouth and lungs as something beautiful closes over your hair and drags you back to the surface.

Logan holds you close to his warm body as he strips your wet clothes from you and wraps you in the dry coat that smells like your father.

You hear Lamb's voice from far away mutter something like "Shit, Mars!" and you lift your heavy head to see him holding your empty medicine bottle and a half-empty bottle of champagne.

A giggle bubbles out of you like vomit, and it tastes nearly as bad. But then another follows, and you can't stop them, and you can't stop them from becoming sobs as Logan breathes a muffled "Oh God," into your dripping hair.

Hysterical panic wells up with each laugh/sob and you realize something that you wish you'd realized hours ago.

You're not alone.

You're father is dead, your best friend is dead, your mother left you (and is probably dead) and Duncan left with the other Lilly, ripping your world out from under you.

But –

You. Are. _Not_. Alone.

Because you still have Logan and Wallace and Mac and Alicia and Leo and Weevil and even fucking _Lamb_, and though they can't ever even _begin_ to take the place of what you've lost, they're still _there_ for you, and you can't let them down like this.

You can't leave Logan alone.

You can't, and you realize that you don't even want to.

You _don't want to die._

"Logan, Logan I'm so sorry, I don't want to die, don't let me die, don't leave me Logan," you sob into his chest, and he holds you even closer and rubs circles on your back as the lights flash and Lamb drives you _back_ to the hospital for what must be the millionth time in the past few weeks.

Black and red and blue and _Logan_ swirls around you, and as a doctor rips you from Logan's arms, you finally give in to the darkness.

**90909**

You're told later that very little time passed between you taking the pills and Logan finding you on the beach, despite the fact that it felt like years. They also tell you that if minutes more had passed, you wouldn't have made it, and this scares you so much that you squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into Logan's chest.

For his part, he simply holds you and strokes your hair until you calm down, never letting his own fear show. But you can feel it in the way his hands tremble as he strokes your hair, and you can hear it in the way his voice shakes when he talks to the doctors.

He wants to know how soon you can be released from the hospital. You want the answer to this as well, but since they had to pump your stomach and put you on life support, you're not as optimistic as he is about it being soon.

In the end, he convinces them that you're not a suicide risk (and you're not, not anymore), and to release you into his care. He takes you home, where Alicia makes a fuss about you (even though it's been days since you were unable to do anything on your own) and Wallace watches you with guarded eyes.

He still loves you, he says, but he won't trust you for a very long time.

These words are so close to the ones your father spoke after you helped Duncan run away that you start to cry, and your best friend is by your side in an instant, holding you and reassuring you that he didn't mean it in a bad way.

"I just mean that we're all watching out for you, V," he says, and you nod through your tears, still unable to explain your miniature breakdown to the concerned faces around you.

When you can't seem to stop crying, Logan picks you up like a baby and tells the others that you need to sleep.

He tells you the entire night about how you will heal, and how he's here for you, never once mentioning the times you've tried to leave him.

He tells you he loves you, and you realize that you've never really told him the same, and that really only makes you cry harder. He pulls you closer to him, stroking your hair and it feels like peace.

"Logan?"

"Yes, baby? I'm here, what is it?"

"I love you, you know that, right?"

You can feel his smile on your cheek.

"I love you too, Veronica."


	3. You're Not Alone in This Story's Pages

**Hold Me Together As I Fly Apart**

**90909**

They decide that you need a vacation, and you wonder why you hadn't thought of this before.

Logan owns a boat, and it is big enough for a small army, but he only invites Lamb and Alicia and Wallace. He asks if you want anyone else, but the only people you can think of are dead or hiding on the other side of the world, so you shake your head.

He packs a bag for you and one for him, because your little trip to the beach (was it really only three days ago?) was probably the last thing your already sore feet needed, and now they are wrapped up in gauze and a sticky lotion that smells like sewage but feels like heaven. You can't walk, and not just because it hurts. The doctor provided you with a wheelchair and strict instructions to rest and not to put weight on your feet for at least the next five days.

You're already on day four, but the pain doesn't seem to have subsided at all, and the rest of your body still aches a little from your nearly-healed sunburn and the bruises you got from not paying attention on your way to the beach and from being tossed around by the waves. The mild concussion you have from hitting your head underwater doesn't help things.

Logan doesn't let you do more than sit up on your own, and when he first got you back, he wouldn't even let you handle _that_.

So you sit in bed, with the TV on, while you watch Logan pack for your ten day vacation. You're sure he would have planned a longer one, but after doing the math, they discovered you only had enough medicine for two weeks, and Logan wanted to be safely back on land before refills were needed.

The doctor has put you on anti-depressants, and the bottle is still full because Logan hasn't been able to convince you to take them yet. You've seen what they did to Duncan, and you can't let that happen to you, so medicine is something that you generally shy away from. Logan and Alicia patiently convinced you to make an exception for the pain medication that's been prescribed to you. The pain did a little of the convincing as well.

But these are things you try not to think about as Logan lifts you from the wheelchair that they insisted you use, even though you'd really rather not. Logan carries you, bridal-style over the threshold of his yacht, and the only thing on your drug-hazed mind is how very blue the sea looks today.

**90909**

It is impossible to use a wheelchair while on a yacht, especially for someone with _your_ tired muscles, and since Logan deems it dangerous, the chair is put up, in a place that you wouldn't be able to reach it even if you could walk the ten feet to the closet.

This leaves you completely dependent on Logan, which is, at first, mostly okay, and even kind of sweet. But after only a couple hours, it's driving you crazy.

You hate being below deck, in the master's quarters you share with Logan, because then you are mostly alone and very claustrophobic. But when Logan brings you out to sit with everyone else, you immediately fall asleep, in the most uncomfortable position you've ever been in, and you wake up with a horrible crick in your neck. And your back. And your legs and arms and shoulders. The kicker is when you move and discover that your right arm has fallen asleep, in that weak, _painful_ way that limbs sometimes do, and you start to cry.

Compounded onto this is the fact that they now no longer trust you with your medication, so it is locked up in a safe inside a closet that only Logan has the key for. You could probably pick the lock and figure out the safe combination, but you'd have to get yourself into the kitchen without dying or getting caught first, and the chances of that many things working in your favor are slim to none. Your feet still have to be debrieded every day, and this leaves them raw and burning, so you really have no desire to walk anyway.

Logan finds the happiest compromise to the _first _situation (the second doesn't need to be remedied) for at least the first few days, in making sure there is always someone down there with you. Every person on the boat needs to have a little one-on-one time with you anyway, to talk things over.

You cringe. Talking has never been your strong suite.

**90909**

The first person to take a shift with you is your best friend. Wallace climbs right into bed with you and holds you like there's no tomorrow. Finally, after what feels like hours, he speaks.

"Veronica Mars… when we woke up, and found your medicine gone, and your dad's _gun_ gone… I nearly died right there. I was so scared that we'd already lost you, V, and I can't handle that." There are tears in his eyes as he tells you this, and the guilt rips into your heart better than the sharpest of knives.

When he's managed to gather his composure, he continues, sometimes in a mini-tirade, sometimes in soft soothing tones, reassuring you that he still loves you.

"Y'know, V, I can't deny that the circumstances were very different, but I lost my dad too… and I still miss him, every day," he mentions, and his tone his so casual that your stomach churns a little. You look away.

"I – I'm sorry, Wallace… I didn't even think – "

But he cuts you off. "No, stop. That's not what I meant. I didn't tell you that to make you feel guilty, V. I told you that so that you understand that I'm here for you, if you need to talk about anything."

You can only nod as the tears well up in your eyes (again, damnit!), and you have to take deep breaths for a few minutes before you're ready to speak again.

"Does it always hurt this much?" You finally manage, and you hate how broken your voice sounds, even to your own ears. Wallace, thankfully, acts like he doesn't notice how fragile you've become.

"Sometimes. The pain – it's always pretty bad, V. But then you have to decide to live again. And when you do, without you even knowing it, the pain disappears, at first for only a few seconds at a time, but then, it's hardly ever the first thing on your mind. The real turning point is when you realize that it's stopped being the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you go to sleep. But sometimes, something will happen, and then, yeah. The pain comes back, just as bad as it is right now. But V?" And he waits until you meet his gaze. "We'll be there for you then, too. Don't let yourself forget that you're not alone in all of this."

His confession and your willingly showing emotion has taken a lot out of you. He sees you hiding a yawn, and smiles indulgently.

"Go to sleep, Supafly," he orders, and you smile back at him and obey.

**90909**

The next person to keep you company is Alicia. Her visit is just as exhausting as Wallace's, though she has a gentler delivery. She lets you know that she's worried about you, and that she's here for whatever you need.

Then she surprises you by telling you that everything, every feeling, every desire, that you've felt since Cassidy Casablancas blew up your father, is completely normal.

"When Hank died, I was angry at him for a very long time, Veronica. And I hated myself for being angry with him, because I knew he hadn't _chosen _to leave me alone, but I couldn't help how mad I was. I was a mess, for a very long time. I'm sorry to say that I'm not even sure how Wallace and Darryl dealt those first couple of weeks, because I hardly remember them."

Then she smiles sadly at you. "But I _did _manage to come out of it, and you will too, Veronica. But you have to let us help you. Keeping everything inside isn't going to make you feel better."

She doesn't even look the least bit disappointed when you still don't really open up to her. She smiles in response to your nod, and takes your hand as you drift into sleep. When you wake up again, she plays checkers with you, and then, finding an old game in the closet, humors you by playing three rounds of Clue with you and Wallace. It would have been four, but the medicine kicks in again, and you fall asleep before you can discover if it was Colonel Mustard in the Ballroom with the wrench, or Professor Plum in the Ballroom with the candlestick.

**90909**

When you wake up, Lamb is sitting beside your bed, reading. You don't know what to say to him, so you are silent, just watching him as he turns the page. But then he looks around, and sees your eyes opened.

"Hey Mars," he drawls, and his voice still carries the gentle quality that it has for the past few weeks. You're still not sure if you like it, and you think this is partly because you don't know _why_ Lamb seems to have taken to you all of a sudden. You assume it has something to do with your father's death, but this either means he pities you or he _really_ hated your father _that much_, and neither of those prospects is very appealing, so you try not to think about it.

You're still tense around him, and more than a little bitter about _everything_ he's done to you and your family over the past three years, and you're sure he knows this.

"Listen, Veronica…" he says, and then lets his sentence trail off, unsure of himself. "I just – I'm sorry, okay? For everything, I mean… for making things hard on you and your dad, for being an ass to you all the time… everything."

You glare at him. "For laughing at me when I told you I'd been raped?" You say, the bitter edge in your voice so sharp it could cut through the imagined steel in his eyes (the steel that disappeared after your father died).

He swallows, closes his eyes, rubs his forehead, and nods. "Yes. Especially for that. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Ronnie. I should have protected you. I should have caught the little bastard that-"

You cut him off when you realize that he still doesn't know. Somehow, in your statement, you managed to leave out that Cassidy Casablancas stole the last vestiges of your innocence at a party sophomore year.

"Cassidy," you state, not bothering to explain further.

"Huh?" he asks, obviously confused. Apparently you shouldn't have skimped on the explanation.

"It was Cassidy who raped me. Well, it was Duncan too, but that was more consensual… kind of. We were both drugged."

"Oh," he says, and there is genuine shock written across his face. "Do you want to tell me how…"

"No. I just want you to know that if you'd bothered to get up off your ass that day, and do your damn job, you would have easily caught Cassidy, and he wouldn't have been able to kill all those kids on the bus. Or my dad." You're angry now, angrier than you've had the energy to be for a long time. You can't even remember everything else you yell at him, but you're pretty sure you blame him for everything that's gone wrong in your life, ever.

Lamb pales just a little during your tirade, but doesn't deny any of it.

Finally, you run out of words, and are left there, panting and trying desperately to hold back tears.

"Why?" You manage, in the tiny voice of a scared little girl. "Why didn't you believe me? Why do you hate us so much?"

His face softens, and he makes a move to cup your cheek, but you flinch so he just drops his hand awkwardly on the bed.

"I don't hate you, Ronnie. I didn't listen to you because it was easy. It was so early in my career as sheriff, and I'd just found out who'd leaked the Lilly Kane videos, and there were dangerous people who wanted your dad out of office… probably even out of Neptune. I was young and _stupid_, god, I was so stupid! Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Who?" You ask him, the whimpy quality all but gone from your voice as your curiosity takes over.

He looks a little surprised that you asked, but doesn't deflect.

"Liam Fitzpatrick," he responds, and at your look, continues to explain that the man hated your father for putting half his family in jail, and that your father was the biggest detriment to the Fitzpatrick's plan to "take over the world of drugs". So Liam planted a dirty cop, one that couldn't easily be traced back to him, in the Neptune sheriff's department. Deputy Oaks, a jovial fellow who no one would ever suspect of evildoing. He'd leaked the crime scene videos, and by the time Lamb was sheriff, Oaks and Liam had enough on him to scare him into submission. He'd never mentioned your accusations of rape, but the Fitzpatricks had made it clear long before that: if you helped anyone in the Mars family, you were dead.

Your head is spinning as you process this information, and you miss what he says next and the turn the conversation takes. You barely hear something about coming to his senses after it was too late, but where he takes _that_ thought makes you tense.

"… when you helped Duncan disappear, that's when I realized it, Mars," Lamb tells you, but you only hear the part about Duncan and you bristle.

He sighs in response, looking older than he ever has, in all the years that you've known him, and you almost feel a little sorry for him.

"Relax, Mars. That's not why I'm here. Jesus Christ! I'm not out to get you, I'm not the fucking boogyman!"

Slowly you nod, but you don't relax. You're not sure if you can, not around him, because no matter what he says, he has been a monster in your closet for far too long for you to just start trusting him again.

His apologies seem heartfelt enough, but you just don't know how to let go of the past.

You turn over on your other side and pretend to sleep. He knows you're faking it, and you know he knows, but he merely sighs again (he's been doing a lot of that lately), and lets you pretend.

**90909**

Logan comes in late at night, and lies in the bed beside you, close, but not touching. He doesn't rant and rave, he doesn't tell you heartfelt stories of his youth. You just lay in silence for the longest time.

Hours after his arrival, he finally says, without looking at you, or even moving at all:

"Will you let us help you, Veronica? Let us in? Let _me_ in?"

His voice is very quiet, and it sounds more final than the cracking of bones or the click of 'send'. He moves his hand mere centimeters closer to yours, and turns it so the palm is facing up. But he waits for you to take the next step.

And it is a long wait. Not because you want to hurt him, but because you're not sure if you can promise him that much. You're not even sure you know _how_ to let people in. But then he says the thing that makes your mind up for you.

"I'll teach you how. And I'll wait forever."

With a slight smile, you inch your fingers sideways till they meet his, and intertwined your hands.

You lay like that for hours.

**90909**

On the fourth day, Logan wakes you up, early in the morning, and carries you up to the deck, still bundled up in your blanket. In the grey light of pre-dawn, you can see him smiling at you.

"Logan… what…" you ask, but he just shakes his head and sits on the deck chair, looking out over the horizon as he holds you in his lap. You follow his gaze and are soon mesmerized by the rolling waves.

Several minutes later, you see the first tendrils of sunlight peek out from behind the edge of the world, and you realize that this is what he wanted you to see. You are both silent for a while, watching as the sun colors the sky with brilliant shades of purple and red and gold.

"Y'know, I've thought about getting a house on the East coast just so I could watch this every morning," Logan murmurs suddenly.

You're confused, but unsure why or how to voice your question. He seems to know, and smiles down at you.

"I like the sunrise better. When I was little, I always thought it was more fun to watch the sun disappear under the waves, but now? We've already seen too many things end, Veronica. I'd rather watch beginnings."

You think you know exactly what he means.

**90909**

You fall asleep in Logan's arms not long after the sun comes up and bathes the world in its golden light. There is a depression in the deck, filled with cushions, probably to provide extra seating for dining above deck, and this is where you wake up, curled up on the cushions, your skin tingling with the tell-tale sign of just a little too much sun, despite the awning Logan had pulled out to shade you, and the copious quantities of sun block he must have rubbed on your skin as you slept. You can smell it on yourself, and it smells like someone cares about you.

You roll over and smile up at the sky for a moment, then decide it's time for you to get back below deck, or put more sun block on. Your skin is still just a little pink from last time, and the doctor warned you about being very careful in the sun until you were completely healed.

You sit up, but see no one around to help you back into the cabin.

"Logan?" You call, trying not to panic. Why would they leave you alone? They know you can't move around on your own! But perhaps they forgot, because there is no response to your cry.

You sit there, and curl in on yourself, wondering where they could possibly be. What if they left you? What if they decided you weren't responsive enough to their attempts to help you, and they'd split, leaving you alone and helpless in the middle of the ocean?

Eventually, the extreme pain cuts through your terror and mental anguish, and you decide that you _have_ to get back downstairs, out of this sun. The thought of having to deal with another sunburn so soon makes tears come to your eyes, so you gather your strength and courage, and start to crawl towards the cabin door. It is all the way on the opposite side of the boat, and you're so tired and in so much pain that you have to stop several times to breathe, and by the time you make it around the side of the boat, you're crying big fat, silent tears streaming down your face.

By this time your knees hurt worse than your feet do, so you pull yourself up and walk unsteadily towards your destination. You only make it four, agonizingly painful steps before you collapse in a heap on the deck, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Veronica?" you hear a voice call your name, but you aren't really in the mood to talk right now, so you don't respond.

"Veronica, where are you?" the voice sounds panicked, and you kind of want to answer now, but you can't catch your breath to yell.

"Help," you mutter weakly, but no one hears you.

"Veronica, baby, please answer me!" You can hear Logan's footsteps running now, but they are running away from you. You cry harder.

Less than a minute later, there are four voices calling for you, some beneath you, in one of the cabin's many rooms, and some on the deck, but not close enough to find you.

You are wedged tightly between the ship's railing and the cabin's outer wall, in the only place on deck that isn't made to be big enough for human passage. You mentally berate yourself for choosing to go around this particular side of the yacht, where they won't think to look for you. It is just another in a long line of stupid choices you've made in the past few weeks, and you'll have the sunburn to prove it in a few minutes.

"Veronica!"

It is Lamb who finally finds you, and his voice makes you jump. You look up at him and start to sob again, equal parts relief and despair. They've found you, sure, but you are by far the smallest person onboard, and the only one who can fit down this side of the boat. You are a good ten feet away from any place where help could reach you, and the thought that you may have to move again makes you vomit into the waves below.

You hear Lamb calling for the others, and you hear Logan's breathy 'fuck' when he sees your predicament. You don't hear what they say as they confer amongst themselves, and you find yourself slipping in and out of consciousness.

Finally Logan shimmies in beside you and rubs your back. "Sweetie, are you okay? Just try to calm down and relax, Ronica, we'll get you out of this. It's okay baby."

You can't even bring yourself to move. You hurt too much. But his hand is still gentle on your back, and he's insisting that you sit up and drink some water. You really don't want to, but he won't stop poking you and it's annoying. You reluctantly sit and open your mouth. You let out a sighed whimper of relief when he puts two little pills on your tongue. He squats next to you, stroking your hair and shading you as much as he can until the pain pills kick in and you begin to feel a little bit better.

"Veronica, do you think you can crawl out this way?" he asks you, and you force yourself to nod despite the fact that even the thought of moving still makes you cringe.

You slowly follow him out towards the open deck, and the moment there's enough room, Logan pulls you into his arms and rushes you down into the cool cabin below.

**90909**

"What happened, Ronnie?" He begs you, half an hour later. The previous thirty minutes he spent holding you under lukewarm water and then rubbing aloe on your reburnt skin, while you sobbed out how much you loved him.

Your sobs have quieted now, and you are laying in bed with him, tucked securely into his chest.

"I thought you'd left me," you choke out, and your tears threaten to spill over again. He hugs you tighter, kissing you all over your red face.

"No, Veronica. Never. I went to the bathroom, and then decided to make some lunch for us while you took your nap. I'm so sorry. I should have made sure there was someone there with you."

You know he feels guilty about the fact that you got hurt again, but it wasn't his fault. _You_ feel guilty for assuming they'd all left you when he was really making you lunch. Lasagna. Your favorite.

You try to tell him that it isn't his fault, but he shushes you. "Don't worry about me, Veronica. You just work on feeling better. Okay?"

You almost argue the point, but then you think better of it and just nod.

He smiles at you, and you fall asleep wrapped in his arms.

**90909**

Despite the rocky start and your obvious continued trust issues, the rest of your vacation goes smoothly. Your new burn isn't nearly as bad as it had first seemed, and you are feeling better only days later. As you heal, you start to spend more time out of the cabin with your friends, playing board games (mostly Clue) and talking and planning and just hanging out.

The next to the last day, Lamb finally beats you at Clue, and everyone gets a good laugh out of your consternation. You spend an hour trying to solve the mystery of how he could have possibly solved the mystery before you. Logan had dealt, so there was no obvious way for him to cheat, and when you finally have to admit that he won fair and square, Wallace pulls out his cell phone and tapes the scene for posterity.

The last full day you spend on the boat, Logan wakes you up to watch the sunrise with him again, and after dinner, your entire group of friends watches the sun set as well.

It surprises you to note that you no longer automatically wish it was your father instead of Lamb sitting across from Wallace at the table.

You think you may have started to forgive him.

**90909**

There are problems to be dealt with and estates to settle, bills to pay… but for 10 wonderful days, you are happy.


	4. Talk of Saving Souls

**Hold Me Together as I Fly Apart**

**90909**

There are a few select people in Neptune that you really hope to never see or hear from again. Liam Fitzpatrick, and anyone associated with him, anyone with ties to Russia, anyone who could be considered an Aaron Echolls fan, reporters, and, of course, Madison Sinclair and Dick Casablancas. There are others, but they're all dead, so you don't really worry about them too much.

But, Neptune is a small town, and the only real way to avoid all of the people you don't like would be to move, far far away.

So when you run into Dick (literally) in the Pac-n-Sac, you aren't really surprised, but you _are_ understandably disappointed. It has been two whole months since his brother stole a piece of your soul and took it with him to hell, and you're _not_ ready to have this conversation.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," he sneers at you, real venom in his voice, and it makes you reel a bit. Sure he's been an ass to you since you met him, but he's never been intentionally malicious. You're actually scared for a moment, thinking he might want to physically hurt you. It is the first time Logan's allowed you out of the apartment without an escort, and it would be fitting that you'd get hurt now.

But Dick doesn't advance on you, doesn't reach out and smack you like you're sure he thinks you deserve. He won't really look at you, he more stares _through_ you than anything, and for a long moment you're both silent.

"I'm glad he didn't kill you," he finally says, and you know him well enough to know that there's a catch, and that it will probably hurt far more than any blow he could have dealt you. "I'm glad you have to live every day without your daddy, Mars. I hope it hurt when the plane blew up. I hope your precious father died in agony."

And you were right. Thinking about your father still hurts more than anything, and hearing someone say they're glad for it, even if that someone is Dick fucking Casablancas, steals the air from your lungs. Whether or not your father died in pain isn't even something you've allowed yourself to think about thinking about, so having it thrown in your face levels you. Quite literally. You sink to the floor, clutching your chest, unable to breathe. You don't remember anything between that and waking up in your father's bed the next morning, Logan wrapped protectively around you.

Alicia tells you that the manager finally took you cell phone from you and called your emergency contact, who happened to be Logan. Apparently the manager's not the only one who's taken your phone, because you don't remember changing your emergency contact from your father to Logan. Though you're infinitely glad he _did_ change it, because option two is still your mother, and you don't want to see her ever again.

**90909**

Logan's painfully gentle with you for the next few days, not making you do anything you don't want to do, with the exception of seeing the therapist. The irony is that this is the one thing you _really _don't think you can handle this week. You know Logan will have told her about the Pac-n-Sac incident, and you've managed to keep from explaining it so far, and you were kind of hoping you'd be able to take the events of that day to the grave with you.

But your appointment is that Thursday, and Logan pointedly refuses to discuss skipping it. Wednesday night, you are so nervous about it that you throw up your dinner, and on Thursday morning, you can't even take a bite of your breakfast. Logan worries about you the entire ride to her office. He doesn't try to make easy conversation to pull you out of your funk, and when he sees you rubbing your temples to try to ease your pounding headache, he turns off the blaring music as well.

You feel awkward, wanting desperately for him to hold you, but knowing he will probably hate you for not telling him what Dick did to you sooner. Finally, though, halfway between your apartment and the offices of Dr. Karen Green, you can't take it anymore, and you reach over quickly and grab his hand, holding him in a death grip. He squeezes back, and at the next stoplight, leans over and kisses you lightly on the temple.

You breathe deeply. You will be okay. Logan will forgive you. He always does.

**90909**

Usually, you talk to Dr. Green alone in a comfy little office, with a couple chairs and a large couch. Today, though, you refuse to let go of Logan's hand, and without you saying a word, he knows you need him there with you. He strokes you hand the entire time you tell them about what Dick said to you in the Pac-n-Sac, and he even manages to reign in his temper, only clenching his jaw painfully.

After an hour of answering questions about how it made you feel to face the fact that your father might have died in pain, Logan takes you home, letting you fall asleep in the car despite the fact that it's well past lunchtime and your doctor has lectured him for hours on the dangers of allowing you to skip meals.

You wake up in your father's bed, and when you pad quietly out to the living room, Logan is there on his laptop, looking at houses.

"What do you think about moving, Veronica?" he asks, and you smile genuinely for the first time in days. Trust Logan to know what will make you feel better even before you yourself know.

**90909**

The next seven months fly by. You and Logan find a quaint little beach house on Catalina Island, on the east side, and Logan buys it without the obligatory haggling and counter-offers. It is a beautiful two story house, with lots of windows and an east-facing sun porch.

You're sure it's the sun porch that sells the house. There is a beautiful oak swing on the porch, set at the perfect angle to watch the sun rise over the beach.

The house itself is right on the beach, but surrounded on the sides by dunes and tall grass so it is private enough as well, hidden from the nearby houses.

A month after you first see the house, you and Logan have finished moving into it, and you both wake up early every morning to watch the sun rise.

**90909**

After the move, you see Alicia and Wallace and Mac less often, and this is harder on you than you'd thought it would be. Again, without you needing to voice your feelings, Logan knows, and invites them over for cookouts and dinners and "playdates for puppies" between Back-up and the new dog that Wallace and Alicia bought for Darryl. Lamb is a common addition as well, and you gradually start to trust him again. He spends an inordinate amount of time with the Fennel family, and at first you think it's because he's interested in Alicia, but soon you discover that's not the reason at all. He simply likes being the good male role model for a change, and Darryl is happy to let him fulfill this role in his life.

You and Logan both take a semester off from college, because the events of the summer left you both a little behind in the registration process. January will see you both attending classes at Hearst, him as an English major and you in photojournalism.

**90909**

It is a sunny September day when Dick appears at your front door, eyes bloodshot and smelling like cheap rum. Logan brings him inside and makes him shower and sleep it off in the guest bedroom down the hall.

When Dick has sobered up, he seems almost ashamed that he's sunk to these lows. But Logan doesn't mention how pathetic he is, and instead adds a burger to the grill as you serve Dick some coke. He takes it with muttered thanks and snorts derisively as he says, "It's been a while since I've had any of this stuff without rum in it… I'd almost forgotten what cola was supposed to taste like."

It is an opening if you ever saw one, and Logan knows it too, and takes the bait.

"What've you been up to, Dick?" he asks quietly.

"Oh, you know, I've been around. Saw Europe for while," he responds, and he sounds bitter about this. You don't understand the reason Europe would make Dick Casablancas angry, but then you didn't really see the logic in blowing up a bus full of kids either. Apparently this family will always be an enigma to you.

But Logan seems to understand the significance of a continent across the world, and asks, "And?"

Dick sighs and then laughs harshly. "She told me – not out loud, of course, but still, she made it pretty clear – that she didn't want to see me. She blames me for Bea – for Cassidy."

You gather that they must be talking about Dick's mother, and despite the fact that there is little love lost between you and anyone in the Casablancas family, you are a little angry on Dick's behalf. The blame for Cassidy's swan dive from the Neptune Grande couldn't really be pinned on one person.

Logan stops cooking, walking over to sit down beside his friend. The three of you are silent for a long time.

"She's probably right, you know. The things my dad and I used to _do_ to him – of course he didn't want to go back to that."

"It's not your fault, Dick," you say, but apparently this was a bad idea, because he rounds on you.

"Oh yeah, Ronnie? And what do _you_ know about whose _fault_ it is?" he snarls, and you and Logan are too stunned at the change to do anything for a moment.

Dick turns back to Logan, and glances between the two of you.

"When you were on the roof – when he climbed the rails – did you try to stop him?" he asks, and his voice breaks a little.

Neither of you has an answer for him. The parallels between this moment and that one are frightening.

Finally you manage to choke out, in the face of Dick's rising anger, "Yes. Logan told him not to jump, but he didn't listen."

Dick glares at you. "I read the police report, _Veronica_," he spits, curling his hands into fists on the table. "You told the cops that he asked _why_ he shouldn't jump, and you didn't tell him anything. How hard would it have been, Logan, to mention that he had a family, friends, a girlfriend, who would miss him? Would it really have been so damn hard for you to just fucking _say my name_?"

There are tears streaming down his cheeks by now, and the cup you'd given him, long since drained of soda, suddenly shatters in his fist. The sound makes you jump, and Logan closes his eyes, gathering himself.

"I'm sorry, Dick. I – I'm sorry," he says, scrubbing his face with his hands. You think the only reason he's able to maintain his calm façade right now is because you're sitting beside him, and he's sitting across from Dick, effectively putting you out of harm's way.

Dick looks like he still has more to say, and you wait, your breath catching painfully in your throat. But he doesn't speak again, just shakes his head and turns and walks away.

**90909**

Reviewing your list of people you'd rather never see again, you wonder to yourself why you never thought to add Gia Goodman. Because two days after Dick leaves your house, Gia shows up on your doorstep, and awkwardly asks for your help.

"Veronica… I need to hire you, again," she says, her tone somewhere between sheepish sympathy and snobby anger. You don't really blame her. It's awkward, not knowing if it's kosher to blame each other's dead fathers for their shared demise.

"What's going on, Gia?" you ask her quietly, quite sure you don't want to know.

"Someone's been following me again. I know it's not the cops this time, because the car isn't always there, and I asked that Leo guy. He said he hadn't heard anything. I want you to find out who it is and make them stop. I'll pay you."

You nod slowly, telling her to tell you everything she knows about the car.

**90909**

It doesn't take you long to track down Gia's stalker, at a bar in San Juan Capistrano. You knew the moment you found the model of the car, but you didn't tell Gia right away, positive that this was one awkward triangle you never wanted to complete.

"So," you say conversationally, as you sit down at the bar next to the blond-haired surfer who used to be your boyfriend's best friend. "Why have you been following Gia, Dick?"

He pointedly ignores you, turning so that his back is facing you. You walk around him and sit at the chair he's now facing, refusing to let his lack of desire to cooperate deter you from getting your answer.

"Fuck off, Ronnie. I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he says, not meeting you eyes.

"Really Dick? The car's the same one you've been using since high school. Did you really think it wouldn't be obvious?"

He snorts. "Whatever."

You shake your head. "Why don't you leave her alone, Dick? It's not her fault either."

"Because she's all I've got, Ronnie!" he explodes, slamming his beer down on the counter so hard that most of the amber liquid inside sloshes over. "I know it's not her damn fault, I just want to see her!" then the fight seems to drain out of him, and he sinks back onto the stool. "But I know she doesn't want to see me. She hates me."

This gives you pause. You'd never thought about the effect this whole thing would have on the relationship between Dick and Gia, mainly because you made it a point not to think about Dick in any relationship, ever. But you'd kind of forgotten that there was quite a spark between them at the alterna-prom.

But really, how would _that_ work now? Your sort-of boyfriend's psycho little brother killed your father, how would you get past that? But that wasn't the only issue, because there was Dick's side as well. Your sort-of girlfriend's father molested your little brother, ultimately resulting in a little brother shaped bloodstain on the sidewalk in front of the tallest building in town. It's hard to decide who is the villain in all this.

But maybe it was all something like finding out your sort-of boyfriend's psycho father had murdered your best friend, and then tried to off you and your dad as well.

"Why don't you let me talk to her, Dick?" you offer, and enjoy the shock in his eyes. "She might surprise you."

**90909**

She doesn't surprise him, but her reasons aren't what he thinks they are.

"My family's like a disease, Veronica," she says, tears in her voice. "Did you know that my little brother got expelled from school for beating up a girl last week? He's nine years old and he broke her arm. My mother won't talk to him about our dad, and I know he did bad things, but he was our _dad_, Veronica! She's having an affair with a married man, a man with three little kids! She's wrecking their lives and she doesn't even _care_! And I _want_ to hate Dick for what his brother did to us, but I just can't! All I want is to see him, but what if I'm just like the rest of them? What if I just end up ruining his life? And even if I didn't how would we get past all this?"

You don't know what to tell her. It would seem that your life wasn't the only one falling apart.

"But, Gia, he really wants to see you. Just think about it, okay?" you plead.

She shakes her head. "No, Veronica. Just leave it alone."

You tell Dick that she didn't want to see him, and he hangs up before you can tell him anything else. By the time you find out where he's been living and make it to his apartment, he is gone.

You don't think he intends to come back.

**90909**

You decide, and Logan agrees, that maybe what Dick needs right now is to get away from Neptune. So you don't track him, and you only leave one message on his answering machine telling him that you and Logan are here for him if he needs anything, and to please refrain from doing anything stupid.

You're not sure you believe it when you tell yourself that he'll listen.

You and Logan spend long months being together and trying to move on and forget.

**90909**

The next time you see Dick Casablancas, it is a quiet clear morning in May, and you are out for some quiet alone time on the beach, and apparently, so is he. Though while you share your alone time with the wind and the waves and the rising sun, he shares his with a revolver and Jose Quervo. You do not smirk, do not judge, because once, not so very long ago, you kept the same company.

You kneel quietly near the place where he sits, legs splayed out in front of him, curled in on himself, deciding whether he should drink away his sorrows or erase himself forever, and you watch the tides roll in. You are right beside the little dock to which your boat is tied, and the gentle _slap slap_ of the water against the hull is comforting to you.

You wish Dick could say the same.

He doesn't look at you, doesn't really move, even, but he lashes out at you with all of his might.

"What, came to finish off the_ rest _of the Casablancas family?"

His words are bitter and angry, and a little surprising, until you remember Logan mentioning that the body of Dick's father was found somewhere of the Chilean coast. The younger Dick is officially alone now, as if he wasn't _before_, when his father was hiding out in Timbuktu, or the Sahara Desert, or wherever the hell he went to escape from his past.

"Don't do this, Dick," you say, but you're not pleading, not begging, not asking or commanding. It is merely a statement.

He snorts and looks sideways at you, and you know what's coming.

"Why not?"

Words spoken across lives and years and circumstances that will forever send a little shiver up your spine, the last physical manifesto of a boy who did horrible things because horrible things were done to him; a boy who didn't deserve to die, no matter what you wish you could believe. A boy who jumped 22 stories to his death because no one could give him a reason not to. A boy whose reason was seated a foot to your left, begging you to give him some reasons of his own.

Why not indeed? There are too many reasons to count, and at the same time, none at all. Dick wasn't a wonderful human being, but he wasn't horrible or malicious either. He'd never done any of the horrible things his brother had done, had never done any of the slightly less horrible things his father had done. Sure, he hadn't done any really _great _things either, but then again neither have most college students. He didn't deserve to die. People cared about him, there were people who would miss him terribly, just as there were some who simply wouldn't.

You sit, searching his eyes and your own heart for a few minutes, thousands of reasons drifting through your head; none seeming quite adequate on its own.

Finally you smile at him.

"Because," you say, simply. Somewhere your mind registers that this is the most anti-climactic talk-down in history. Everything about this morning seems calm and full of something that might be promise.

Dick snorts and grips the gun tighter. "That's not a reason, _Ronniekins_," he sneers.

You keep looking at him.

"Because if you kill yourself, then I'll use that same gun to off myself as well. How's that, Dick?" You offer, as if you were talking about the weather. You know he doesn't really care about _you_ that much, but the idea will get his attention.

And it does. He stares, open-mouthed at you, his brows knitted together in consternation. You do not look away, and he blinks first.

"Let go of the gun, Dick," you suggest, and he still seems a little confused about how this conversation ended up _here_.

Finally, Dick lets the gun slip from his fingers desolately, and the soft _whump_ of the metal hitting the sand makes your skin crawl and eases your nerves all at once. You pick it up from where it fell and toss it into the ocean. There have already been too many guns.

He looks at you with eyes unlike any you've ever seen before; so full of pain you can't look away. You know what that feels like.

"What am I supposed to do now, Ronnie?" he asks, his voice breaking like his dead brother's bones must have when he finally stopped falling.

You marvel at the ways things break at the end of their fall.

"Well?" his voice brings you back, and now he sounds like he's trying to be angry, but he just doesn't have the energy. "I don't _have _anything left, so what do I do, Ronnie, if you don't let me die and I don't remember how to live?"

You smile sadly and take his hand, leading him around the dock to a place where you can easily see the sun rising over the vast expanse of rolling blue (for isn't that the reason Logan bought a house on this particular stretch of the island? To be able to greet the new day instead of watching it fade?).

"Let us remind you," you tell him, and you motion for him to sit beside you at the dock's edge. Logan is waiting at the beach house he bought for you, and Alicia and Wallace and Darryl and Mac and Weevil and his grandmother and Lamb and Leo and Sachs are all coming to dinner tonight. Dick doesn't know it yet, but you have a sneaky suspicion that he will make an appearance as well, especially after you have a talk with Gia about moving on and letting the past stay in the past.

You realize with a bit of a start that for once, it almost doesn't tear you apart to think of all the people who _won't_ be joining your little party. And this is the moment of your epiphany. Your father – and his painful absence – are no longer at the forefront of your mind the moment you open your eyes in the morning or in the last seconds before you drift off at night.

You're moving on, and _this_ is how it feels to live again.

You smile to yourself, and Dick notices and makes a face at you. You only smile wider. He doesn't understand yet, but he will someday. He finally shrugs and turns back to watch the sun rising over the ocean.

And so this is how it ends. With you sitting beside Dick Casablancas, a year to the day that his world ended and took yours along with it (or maybe it is the other way around), watching as the sun promises you both a new day.

No ending has ever felt more like a beginning than this one.


	5. The Fortune of One Man: Keith's Epilogue

**Hold Me Together As I Fly Apart: Keith's Epilogue**

***This chapter is from Keith's point of view. Don't get all confused on me here.***

The day your daughter is born is the best day of your life. The fifteen years that follow are mostly golden and sweet, seen through rose-colored lenses. You know of your wife's infidelity, but you convince yourself that you don't care (oddly enough, you actually discover that you _don't_. Apparently you came to terms with it when you weren't paying attention, and now Veronica is more important than worrying about an unfaithful wife).

Then Lilly Kane is murdered, you lose your job, your wife leaves you both without even a goodbye, and Veronica is all you have left.

You want to hold your daughter through her grief, but by the time you think you have the courage to actually do it, you walk into her room to find a short-haired spitfire in her place.

You don't truly understand why until after you are dead, and the knowledge of what happened to her kills you a little, on the inside (it's almost poetic then, that what happened to her literally kills you as well).

You've tried to be her rock, her solid ground through everything, and it isn't until you're ripped out from under her that you realize that it's really been her protecting you all along. It surprises you to note that you're not more surprised that she was always the strong one.

You look down on her as she grieves, and it tears you up inside to see her hurting that badly. This is a thousand thousand times worse than when Lilly was killed, and you don't think you'll never forgive yourself for not answering that damn phone.

You see her drive away from her life and anyone who would care enough to get her through this, and the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin scare you. You don't want her to end up here with you so soon.

You see Logan and Lamb find her, and now that you know Lamb's reasons for being a jack ass, you try to convince yourself that you've forgiven him. You have, for taking your place, and for being a jerk to you. But thinking about him laughing at your crying blond-haired baby instead of helping crucify the person who hurt her still makes your blood boil. Still, you never blame him for your own death, even if he could have prevented it.

You watch Veronica fall further and further apart, refusing to break down completely, refusing to take the anti-depressants the doctor prescribed to her, refusing to let herself heal. You would vomit if you still had a stomach to vomit from.

You _wish_ you still had the luxury of being physically ill when you see her take her pills and your gun to the beach. As the waves close over her head, the pain in your non-existent heart intensifies exponentially.

When Logan's hand closes over her hair, you praise every deity you've ever heard of that she hadn't cut it again.

You watch your daughter slowly get better and accept help from people she trust; people you've grown to trust as well. As if that matters anymore.

You see before she does that she's begun to move on, and as much as it hurts you to think about not being part of her life, you smile because this is by far better for _her_. She can't stay hung up on your death forever, and you don't want her to (what you _want_ is to be alive and solid and able to hold her, but you don't think that's going to happen).

The morning she happens upon Dick Casablancas at the beach, you know she's finally ready to do this without you. Maybe you _can_ forgive yourself for ignoring her last call. You don't think it would have given her the closure she needed anyway, and you doubt it would have changed much about this past year.

You watch as she sits with the blond surfer on the dock, and you smile. It will never be easy, but your little girl _will_ be alright. You close your eyes on the phantom tears, and when you open them again, the image of the growing sunshine has faded and is being replaced by light of a different kind.

In the distance you see Lilly Kane standing with Meg Manning, your mother, and a tall black man who is the grown-up version of Wallace's little brother. The man - Hank Fennel - smiles at you, and claps you on the back as they lead you into the light.

As you walk away, you can feel Veronica finally letting you go.


End file.
